It Really Wasn't Okay
by song-of-a-nightowl
Summary: Martha and Dean deal with the fallout of Sam's detoxing. Tag for "My Bloody Valentine"


The screaming bothered Martha less than the desperate pleas for help. The screaming was simple: it was just pain, fear, and rage. Powerful those may have been, they were nothing compared to the pleading.

Sam called out the names of everyone he cared about, even the names of some people who were long-dead. He called out for Dean the most. Martha's name was always right behind that of his brother. There were a few cries for Castiel and Bobby, and sometimes even for Ellen and Jo. The names tore themselves out of Sam's throat and released into the air, a guttural growl of pain and fear and loneliness and love. Of course there was love in those pleas; Sam would never call for people he didn't love in a situation like this.

On the other side of the panic room door, Martha sat at the bottom of the basement steps with her head in her hands and an empty bottle of beer resting between her feet. She was alone down here, save for Sam's screaming. Dean had sought refuge out in the car lot a few hours ago. Bobby found it too inconvenient to come down the stairs with his wheelchair. Castiel was simply gone. Martha wished she had enough willpower to get up and walk away. She hadn't moved from the spot since she had sat down a few hours ago.

There was a creak on the staircase. Martha turned around. Dean was coming down the stairs, the pain clear on his face. It was killing him to hear his brother go through demon-blood detox like this, as surely as it was killing Martha.

"You've tortured yourself enough," said Dean, "Come upstairs."

"No," said Martha in a small voice. She shook her head and said with more force, "No. I'm not leaving him alone down here."

"He doesn't know you're here. If you leave for a little while, he'll be –"

"Dean Winchester, don't you dare say that he'll be fine!"

Dean descended the last of the steps and stood in front of Martha. She stood too.

"He's going to be screaming whether you're here or not, Martha. Just because he's going through this torture doesn't mean you have to too. Just come upstairs."

"I can't leave him down here. What if he needs me?"

"Then I'll stay down here for a while. You should just, I don't know - go for a walk or something. I can tell that this is killing you."

"It's killing you too."

"Yeah, but I've gone through it before."

"All the more reason you shouldn't have to again."

Dean was silent. Then, "Martha, the last time this happened –"

"Who's Ruby?"

Dean blanched. His mouth gaped a bit, and it almost looked like some of the screams filling the air were coming from him.

"Sam keeps calling out for someone named Ruby. But it's not like the other names, when he calls for help. When he says her name, he sounds angry."

"Don't, just don't. I am not in the mood to talk about that bitch right now."

"Dammit, Dean, tell me! Whoever she was, Sam is bloody furious at her! I have a right to know!"

"No, you don't! Don't you even dare come in here thinking that you have a right to know all of the shit that happened in our lives before you came into in the picture! Would you like to know about Jess too? How about Madison? Or maybe you want to hear about Sarah Blake?"

"Why would I want to hear about other women?" Realisation flickered to life in Martha's head. She said, "Ruby and Sam were…"

"What they were was an abomination," snarled Dean, "That bitch was the whole reason we're in this mess. If Sam is calling out for her to die again, then I'm all for it."

"What do you mean, she's the reason you're in this mess? What did she do?" Martha wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"I mean, she caused the fucking apocalypse! She lied to us, manipulated us, and basically signed our death warrant. She's the reason that Sam got hooked on demon blood in the first place! Where do you think he got his supply? From that black-eyed bitch! Oh, and did I mention that they were sleeping together too?"

Martha stepped back, and her ankle bumped against the steps. She grabbed the railing to steady herself. Her nails dug deep into the wood. She knew that the hurt must have shown in her face, because Dean immediately looked repentant.

"Martha, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all of that," he said.

Martha didn't speak. She didn't move. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to hit Dean for saying all of that, and she wanted to hit someone else just for good measure. She didn't do any of that, though, because she couldn't. She couldn't run and scream and throw a tantrum when Sam was screaming his brains out just a few yards away.

Without thinking, Martha found herself walking toward the panic room. Dean followed hesitantly, and stood back when Martha stopped at the large, metal door. She wrapped her arms around her mid-section and rested her head against the door.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. She knew Sam couldn't hear her; she couldn't even hear herself over Sam's screaming. Maybe some part of him, deep down, could hear her words. She said it again, like a little prayer, over and over. It was only when Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulders that she realised she was sobbing. Her muttered apology still slipped out between gasping breaths.

Dean pulled Martha away from the door and pulled her in for a hug. Martha's arms were still curled around her stomach. She rested her head on Dean's shoulder and cried some more, because the man she loved was in pain and she couldn't help and everything was wrong. Everything was wrong.

"It's okay," whispered Dean.

Martha could tell from his voice that he was crying too. She buried her face into his shoulder.

"It's going to be okay," said Dean.

It wasn't, though. Even when Sam would eventually get out of that panic room, things wouldn't be okay. Nothing was ever okay for hunters.


End file.
